


Between

by roelliej



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Coming Out, Denial of Feelings, Drama, F/M, First Love, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Ratings: R
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 12:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2622494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roelliej/pseuds/roelliej
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron is going through a complicated fase of his life. Then the past catches up with the troubled boy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to D. for the beta-check! <3

“I think you’ve had enough, Bilius,” Ron’s mother said disapprovingly as she tried to grab the large bottle of Firewhisky standing on the table.

 

“Why so serious, sis?” Uncle Bilius said, adeptly evading Ron’s mum's attempt. “Let’s put a smile on your face.”

 

Ron suppressed a snort as his Uncle quickly grabbed some powder out of his pocket and blew it into his mother’s face.  She staggered a bit, before being consumed by an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Tears were flowing down her cheeks as she rolled over the wet grass, staining her white dress. Ron’s father ran towards his wife; his face flushed with anger as he glared at his brother.

 

“See?” Uncle Bilius said, while winking at Ron. “Never trick a trickster.”

 

“Wow,” Ron said, impressed. “Did you invent that powder?”

 

“Yeah. Call it my second nature.”

 

He grabbed the bottle, threw away the lid, mouthed a cheerful _bottoms up_ before draining the entire bottle in one gulp. _Did that man miss the ability to swallow?_

 

“You’ll pay for that, Bilius!”

 

Ron turned his head and saw his mother storming onto the crowded dance-floor; his father trying the best he could do prevent his mother doing something she might regret. The other guests hastily removed themselves from the floor, which almost looked like a level from a Muggle-game Ron once saw at the home of a distant relative from his mother’s side. Ron hoped the upcoming duel wouldn’t be that bloody.

 

“Molly, please,” Uncle Bilius said, still smiling. Very unwise, since the look on Ron’s mother’s face could kill a troll in his prime. “Do you really want to do this? I’ll apologise if that makes you feel better?”

 

“You can stick your apologies in a place where the sun doesn’t shine,” Ron’s mother hissed; firing a spell, which missed Uncle Bilius by an inch. His smile didn’t falter a single bit.

 

“Now you’re being rude, Molly,” Uncle Bilius said, faking a pout, while blocking another spell with a wave of his wand. “What a nice woman like you needs right now, is a bouquet of flowers.”

 

Ron put his hands on his mouth in a pathetic attempt stopping his howl of laughter. Uncle Bilius pulled down his trousers and boxers, exposing his pale backside. He bent over, exposing something that definitely wasn’t suitable for a Weasley birthday party, and pulled an impressive bouquet of white lilies out of his...

 

“Bilius!” Ron’s father screamed, Stunning his brother with a sharp movement of his wand. “Enough of this!”

 

Ron’s smile faltered with every word his father said. He’d never seen him this angry, not even when Fred and George had nearly talked Ron into making an Unbreakable Vow.

 

“I like a joke as much as the next guy, Bilius, but you will not make a fool out of my wife. You will leave immediately.”

 

Bilius groaned softly as he tried to get back on his feet. There was no mischief visible on his pale face, only pain. The spell must have hit him pretty hard. Or maybe the words of Ron’s father.

 

“Arthur, dear. Is that really necces—”

 

“Yes, Molly,” Ron’s father said resolutely. “He has to learn that there are consequences for his actions.”

 

“Arthur, brother...”

 

“Out!” Ron’s father shouted; his outburst making Great-Aunt Muriel fall from her chair, which would have been funny if his father’s blood pressure wasn’t reaching a dangerous peak. “Out! Out! Out!” Ron’s father emphasised each word with several curses, being aimed at his Uncle’s feet as he made his way to the nearest Apparition Point, disappearing out of Ron’s life.

 

 

~*~

 

 

“Arthur, what’s the matter?” Molly said as she saw her husband sitting at the dining table, his face buried in his hands.

 

“It’s Bilius,” a muffled voice slipped through Arthur’s fingers. “I just received a Floo-call from Pedro, you know, his...his...”

 

“Friend,” Molly added. She laid a hand on her husband’s shoulder, already knowing the outcome.

 

“He died,” Arthur whispered, his voice audible cracked with emotion.  “He’s gone, and I will never have the chance—”

 

“Don’t do this, sweetheart,” Molly whispered, suppressing a sob. “Don’t blame yourself.”

 

They were so absorbed by their grief that they didn’t notice their youngest son sobbing uncontrollably on the stairs as he’d accidentally eavesdropped their conversation.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Ron looked around as he tried to comprehend where he was. The room he was standing in was so small, that he had to summon all the willpower in his body to prevent his lanky legs from bumping against the dusty furniture. Ron couldn’t find a single piece of wall as they were completely covered with enormous bookcases filled with countless books. He smelled the authentic fragrance of old, tattered books, which reminded him of the library at school.

 

“Do you like my small collection?”

 

Ron turned his head and saw an old man sitting in the easy chair before him. He could have sworn that the man hadn’t been there when Ron had entered the room. The old man was covered with freckles and although there wasn’t much hair left on his head, Ron still recognised the bright orange colour between the prevailing streaks of grey.

 

“Uncle Bilius?”

 

“You betcha!” Uncle Bilius answered, smiling broadly. “A bit older, but still in shape.”

 

The man stood up and pulled Ron into a short embrace. Ron swallowed audibly as he felt the man’s warmth against his body. He’d missed him.

 

“So, what brings you here?” Uncle Bilius asked as he pointed to a grimy, pink couch, inviting Ron to sit down. “I’m dead. What’s your excuse?”

 

Ron studied the face of his Uncle, searching for the smallest clue of a joke. His Uncle didn’t even flinch and he wasn’t the poker-face-type.  For the first time in his life, Ron noticed pure grief, visible in his Uncle’s shaking hands.

 

“You’re too young, Ronald,” Uncle Bilius mumbled, more to himself. “You’re too young to die.”

 

“I’m dead?” Ron whispered, feeling nauseous. “It can’t be...”

 

“You were lucky, boy,” Uncle Bilius said, taking a large gulp from a purple drink next to him, keeping his gaze focussed on something Ron couldn’t see. “You were so damn lucky.”

 

“So I’m not dead?”

 

“That’s up to you,” Uncle Bilius said with an air of mystery. “You’re _between_ so to speak.”

 

“Between what?” Ron asked, a slight hint of impatience audible in his voice.

 

“Between between,” his Uncle answered, avoiding Ron’s persistent glare.

 

“Please don’t ask any further. I’m not allowed to speak about it. The only thing I can do is give you some advice.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“When are you going to stop pretending to be someone you’re not?”

 

Ron sighed audibly, getting tired of his Uncle’s vagueness.  He just stared at his Uncle, his mouth a bit open.

 

“Merlin’s underpants, boy,” Uncle Bilius said, his eyebrows raised a bit. “Do I need to spell it out for you? When will you finally allow yourself to be happy? When are you going to admit that you and I are on the same side?”

 

Ron felt a blush appearing on his cheeks and felt the invisible wall that he’d built and strengthened with lies, slowly crumbling down.

 

“Did you really think Pedro and I were _roommates_?” Uncle Bilius said, while refilling his glass with the unknown, but probably strong liquid. “Wake up and smell the coffee, boy.”

 

“You were...er...”

 

“Roommates,” Uncle Bilius said as he waved his wand. A filled glass appeared in Ron’s hand. “Something like you and young Mr Potter. Very, very good mates.”

 

Ron swallowed audibly as Uncle Bilius looked straight into his eyes.

 

“Drink. You’ll feel better afterwards.”

 

Ron smiled weakly as his lips made contact with the glass. Its content smelled horrible. Even fouler than Percy’s worn socks. He still hesitated as he opened his mouth, allowing the drink to enter his body. He tasted strawberries. He tasted a small hint of toothpaste. And he tasted something that was neither new nor familiar. Ron’s eyes travelled towards his Uncle, but he was gone. Just like the chair. And the bookcases. And the room. And Ron wasn’t sitting, but lying. In a warm, but not so comfortable bed. And he wasn’t alone.

 

“There you are. Thank Merlin you’re alright. I thought the bezoar hadn’t worked.”

 

A small puff of breath caressed Ron’s nostrils.  A connection was made. And Ron smelled the unidentified scent.  

 

It was like magic, tingling under the surface of his skin. Consuming him.  He wanted to taste it. An urge uncontrollable like nature.

 

And Ron gave in. Willingly.

 

There was a struggle, but it was worth it. As soon as the taste mingled with his, Ron finally understood what he had been missing all those years.  He still smiled when the source of Ron’s urge ran away, his cheeks as pink as Ron’s rapidly growing arousal, screaming to be satisfied.

 

And Ron gave in.

 

Moaning softly as his hand flew over his painfully hard cock, while images of the kiss and so much more became visible behind his closed eyes.  A soundless cry left his lips as a tremendous orgasm rippled through his cock, wave after delicious wave, coating his belly with his liquid excitement. And then there was nothing but silence. Ron licked his lips, still tasting that one unique taste. The taste of a man. The taste of Harry Potter. And then there was sleep. And a soft laughter echoing in Ron’s head.

 

A trickster’s laugh.


End file.
